Coming Home
by Shikibu Murasaki
Summary: AU. Genjo Sanzo is found by Komyo Sanzo beaten and bloody on the street one rainy night. Komyo takes him in, somewhat adopting him. Through there, they find out more about each other. Genjo Sanzo tries to remember his unclear, bloody and tragic past Yaoi,


**Coming Home**

By: Shikibu Murasaki

**Disclaimer: **I do not own **Gensoumaden Saiyuki**. We all know who does and I worship the ground she walks on. Though I did borrow **Genjo Sanzo** and **Komyo Sanzo** for a while to get this fanfic into shape.

**Author's Note: **I don't know what got into me or what was in whatever I ate for breakfast, but this is a **Komyo Sanzo x Genjo Sanzo** ficlet. I try not to make it long as to not overdo the drama in it. I surmise this is the shortest fanfic I'll ever have in my account. And just not to frazzle anyone into thinking it's an unannounced AU. Let me warn everyone right now. **It's an AU. **If you find this pairing or these circumstances offensive, please leave now rather than to put up a stupid incoherent flame that will do no good for the betterment of this fiction.

Another thing I want to ask from whoever reads this. Please, if you find something you dislike about the fic or something you would want me to change, or something you think should or shouldn't belong – Please say it in an intelligible and sensible way that I can understand. I know not everyone who dislikes a fic are stupid flamers. I've seen decent people leave constructive critiques here and there. Please do the same. I know that not everyone will appreciate this fic, so if you want to say anything about it. Please be helpful at least.  Thank you so much.

But just in case there are STUPID flamers out there. Don't even think about it. You will be paid no attention to. If you can't provide me with a good reason why this fic isn't good, then don't waste your time flaming every single one of my works. I won't waste any time on you.

* * *

He couldn't move from where he was. He knew he was down on the cold, hard and rocky ground. He could feel the pattering raindrops on his cheek as they all fell from the sky, soaking him wet. He could hear thunder and he knew that there was lightning. The wind was getting even colder as it blew even stronger. His fingers moved slightly, brushing against the ground, he could feel wet soil on his skin, his right cheek smudged with it as well as he continued to stay down. A soft groan escaped his lips, his brows met. He was trying to wake himself up and trying to get himself to move. But he was in pain. Pain that he could usually handle, but it was too much for him at the moment. He didn't understand anything. Everything was a haze, he knew that everything went by a little too quickly – the bad thing was he couldn't remember any of it. 

If there was anything he could remember, it was that some people had been screaming. And it was all he could hear in his head as of the moment, which haunted him even more. His brows creased, he grit his teeth, his nails digging pressing against the hard soil, the dirt stuck in his fingernails. He shivered, it was getting colder and he had never felt so weak and useless in his life. Not before this. Pathetic, he thought to himself. The screaming in his head continued. He could hear the thunder and it was a lot louder now. He wished it could muffle everything else he can hear within his mind.

In vain, he tried to push himself off the ground, the rain poured even harder. He was soaked to the bone, and he could smell something. He could taste something by the corner of his mouth. It was a metallic and salty taste. Something he was very familiar with. He was able to open his eyes just a little bit, and he could see the red liquid dripping on the back of his hand. He saw it all over his arms and his palms, the rain-washing it all the way, water mixing with blood. In an instant, he choked on the air he was breathing, he was stained with it all over and he didn't or couldn't remember. A rough cry failed to escape his lips, as it was caught in his own throat. Instead he started to cough violently. His arms shook and he weakly fell back.

It could've been better if he died here. But he knew it would be too easy, this was retribution for something he might've done. He wasn't really sure. He didn't feel alive anymore, but it was hell to know that he was. There were times that he felt so tired that it could've eaten him up alive. He knew this was the worst it could get, this was the turning point of it all. He stayed still, waiting everything to crash down on him. It felt like he was waiting to die. Something he promised himself he'd never do. Why was it so different now? He wondered.

Just as thunder and lightning both clashed from a distance, he could hear faint footsteps coming towards him. He dared not move, not that he had the strength to anymore. He listened for anything that might explain to him how he ended up here and why there was blood all over him. There was nothing more but the rain subsiding a bit, the footsteps were no longer heard. He was starting to think he had finally gone deaf. But it was then that he felt warmth coming a few inches away from him.

He felt himself being picked up from the ground, being drawn to thin and long yet strong arms. Embracing him and holding him closely and almost protectively. He tried to open his eyes; there was a warm coat of sorts wrapped around his well-built and slender body, which had been shivering from weakness and the cold just a few moments earlier. He was being lifted off, supported from the ground. He was being moved, it was then a his violet eyes opened very slightly and he could see a figure of a tall young man, everything else was blurry except for the light brown mane that fell past his shoulders and was tied up in a braid. He saw the white coat, which might've been his, now around him. Keeping him warm and lulling him to sleep.

''I have no choice but to take you with me.'' He heard the gentle voice speak as he fell unconscious again.

* * *

He opened his eyes as the light was right above him, it hurt looking directly at it. He immediately sat up and winced, it was only a few moments from then that he noticed that he was no longer out in the street. He was in a small room, enough for one person. The walls were colored white and there was nothing but the bed, at the center of the room where he was lying down on. The floors were wooden, and there wasn't a speck of dirt in sight. There was a bookshelf by the side of the room and a small table and chair where a few books and sheets of paper were. He looked beside him, the table with the small lamp and a tray of food and water waiting for him.

_Where the hell am I? _He asked himself, wincing as there was a throbbing pain in his head, as he moved his hand to massage his temple, he noticed that his hands were bandaged as well. He paused to look at it, taking deep breaths and leaning back on the bed. He noticed that he was out of his soaked clothes and was now wearing a cotton gray robe. His golden hair was still a bit damp from the rain, but was on it's way to drying. He blinked once and looked out the window. The rain was subsiding and it looked like the clouds and the skies were not as dark as he could remember.

_Wherever this is, I can't stay here for long. _He told himself again as he shook his head and took a deep breath, he found that he couldn't get up or move so much without any of his muscles aching. But he decided it was something he could live through. He didn't even know where he was supposed to go after this. Home, maybe? But that's what he did during the first time, that's why he got into that predicament in the first place. He found himself returning to the topic of what exactly it was that went wrong. Staring into empty space, out the window he at least found it relieving that he heard the raindrops instead of violent screams as he did earlier.

There was a knock on the door before it opened, he looked up and watched as his rescuer entered. He was a man who didn't seem that taller than he was, but maybe by a few inches more. He felt that he was a lot older though, though he didn't look a day over twenty perhaps. This man had long light brown hair, which was tied up in a braid, he was dressed in a leather undershirt and black arm warmers, the light brown khakis. He was barefoot it seems, but it was normal since this house was his.

He looked at him as he smiled gently, his eyes were black and they looked directly at him. He walked to the window and spoke in a quiet voice, but still with a pleasant tone.

''Looks like the rain stopped just now.'' He said, he walked over and pulled the curtains down. ''We'll pull this down for a while, if you don't mind. It might get too cold, that'll make your condition even worse.''

''I'm fine.'' His voice sounded dull, hoarse and dry. He didn't look up from the blankets until a few moments as the man was now sitting at the chair across his bed. ''I'll leave here tonight –''

''I can't let you go out there, sir.'' The man answered politely. ''You've got a fever. You're quite wounded and it looks like you suffered a bit of a beating. He looked at him. ''You can stay here for as long as you need to – until you get better at least.''

The blonde raised an eyebrow, his scowl almost skeptical as he spoke again, still in a dry voice. ''I said I was fine. Sorry for the trouble –''

''It's no trouble at all.'' The brunette answered with a smile and a nod. There was something so warm and comforting about that smile, even someone like him couldn't fail to notice it. He shook his head and then leaned back and turned his attention to the empty space to his left.

''You should eat something to get your strength back.'' He said as he gestured over to the food. ''It's the easiest way to regain lost energy, something I think you'd want to get done as soon as possible?'' he kept the calm smile on his face. The blonde looked at the tray of food and asked in a low tone.

''You cooked this?''

''Of course. I have no servants in this house. It's only me who stays here.'' He answered.

The younger man fell quiet again, looking at his bandaged hands.

''I had to tend to all your wounds before they got infected. Your hands seem to be the worst in shape when I found you. You'll have a hard time moving those in a few weeks. But I'm sure they'll get better.''

''Aa…''

There was a long moment of silence between them. The younger man noticed the other one looking at him, carefully and almost studying him as if taking into note every little detail that he could. His blonde brows met slightly as a scowl fell upon his lips, forming.

''What?'' he asked, almost impatiently.

''Nothing… I was just wondering, maybe if…'' The older man paused. ''Maybe you had somewhere to go after you get better? You're in a hurry to leave…''

The blonde paused for the longest time. He looked back down at his hands, his gaze falling to them and back at the stranger ahead of him, waiting for an answer.

''Nowhere, really.'' He said finally. ''I just – wanted to get something over with as soon as possible.''

The older man looked at him for a few more moments, before he smiled again and nodded. ''Of course. I won't push any longer or ask for now. It might be a little bit too much, I don't want to strain you. You're my guest.'' He stood up and paused, his expression still calm. ''And your name…?''

The younger one paused and looked towards the tray of food. ''Genjo Sanzo.'' He answered lowly, quickly.

The older man laughed a bit softly and paused for a moment before he spoke. ''What a coincidence that you and I have the same name.''

He looked up at the brunette. ''What is your name anyway?'' he asked as well.

''Komyo Sanzo.'' He answered with a smile and a nod. ''I guess it's not really that strange. Just a funny little coincidence, I suppose.'' He turned back and started to walk to the door. ''Well, then – Sanzo. I'll be off to my own duties for a while if you excuse me.'' He said. ''Meanwhile, you should eat. I'll come back to clear the dishes later.''

''Wait a second…'' Sanzo asked almost in disbelief, but still keeping his stern and low mood. ''You're just going to let me stay here? You hardly know me.'' He ended his sentence right there before he could say anything more. He might've asked why Komyo would allow a complete stranger to stay with him, in his own house, when it was possible that he couldn't be trusted. When it was possible that he could hurt him, that something could push him to hurt him. Nothing was sure, as long as he couldn't get a hold of things that happened, he couldn't really be sure of anything.

Komyo paused for a while before he smiled and then turned to him momentarily. ''Well, you're not here to hurt me. At least I don't think you are.'' He nodded. ''And as long as that's clear, there's no reason for me to turn you away.''

Sanzo fell quiet as Komyo turned back and headed outside of the room closing the door behind him. A few moments later and the blonde took the tray of food, placed it on his lap and began to eat, realizing just how much he needed to eat after all.

* * *

TSUZUKU

* * *

Author's Note: If you guys like it, you know what to do. If you want some stuff to improve, please tell me in an intelligible way. Flames are NOT accepted. Constructive Criticisms ARE, however. There's a big difference, please remember that.

I'm sorry if I didn't give him the name Kouryu or anything that would make our lives easier. It's just that Genjo Sanzo at twenty-three --- he doesn't really look like a Kouryu anymore. I couldn't do it. ;; Gomen ne, minna-san.

I'll try to update as soon as I can.


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